Special
by patricia51
Summary: Hera has always known she's special. But it's not why everyone thinks.


Special by patricia51

(Hera has always known she's special. But it's not why everyone thinks.)

(Author's Note. I realize that 150,000 years ago when the Galactica reached Earth that most if not all of the current flora and fauna had not yet evolved. However I have chosen to use familiar names for the items the spacefarers would have cultivated.)

Today is one of those perfect fall afternoons. The sun is warm but it's not the blazing ball of heat of the summer months. A breeze is blowing but it's not the harsh gusts of winter. The grass is soft underfoot, the remnants of the early picnic supper we had still smell wonderful and my siblings are shouting happily as they chase each other through the stalks of the corn field.

A colorful woolen blanket that Mom, my sister Artemis and I made on our loom last winter is spread across the grass in the corner of the field. My parents are relaxing on it. As usual they are close together. Mom is sitting cross legged and Dad is sprawled out on his back with his head in her lap. She's dropping grapes one by one into his wide open mouth. He chews them up and then turns his head and lets fly with the seeds, seeing each time if it will go farther. Mom rolls her eyes each time he spits and pretends to fuss at him.

I know it's pretend because I've never seen them really fuss at each other. Sometimes it drives us all crazy; me and Artemis and our little brothers Hermes and Orpheus. Everyone else's parents argue, so why don't ours? No one believes us when we say they don't. Everyone thinks we're just making that up.

I study my Dad. The wonderful thing about my Dad is that he is exactly what he appears to be. There's nothing hidden about him. He's strong and handsome and brave and he admits he's loved our Mom from the moment he met her. Well as her anyway.

Oh dear, that takes some explaining I guess. When Dad met Mom he thought he already knew her. He didn't, he knew one of the other what they used to call "Number Eight's". Of course none of them go by that anymore, they all go by their name, however it might have originated. Some of them were given names by others, like Mom's old call sign "Athena". Some decided themselves what name they would be called by, either alone with the help of friends and family.

I've met others of course. A couple live right here in our village. I don't ever have any trouble telling them apart from Mom or from each other. There's another one who comes through with one of the trader caravans about twice a year. She's really nice and tells wonderful stories of the other places she sees on their travels. But once again, she's obviously not Mom.

I guess I could always tell the difference. I can remember the Galactica for sure and I'm pretty sure I remember the Colony. I THINK I recall the Base Star I was taken to from New Caprica but that might just be because I've heard the story so many times. So maybe it isn't a real memory of refusing to be comforted by any Number Eight, including Boomer but instantly knowing it was my Mother when she took me in her arms and I calmed down.

That's one of the reasons there have been so many rumors that I'm "Special". I know; I was the first child with one Cylon parent and one Human parent. As anyone can see just from the happy tumult going on before me I certainly wasn't the last one. Cylon/Human children abound now.

Humans were afraid of me once. Cylons rejoiced, proclaiming my birth to be the will of God. And for all I know it was.

Dad was raised with the idea of "The Gods of Kobol". Some of the Twelve Colonies were deep into their veneration of those gods, with temples and priests and rituals to worship them. Many others, like Dad, accepted the idea of some higher power or powers but didn't go much beyond that. Things like the "Eye of Jupiter" and others were man-made, road signs to Earth from the lost tribe. They may have been inspired by a higher being but were the work of human hands.

Mom's people on the other hand simply believe in God. God doesn't have a specific form and he doesn't need temples or priests. He does watch over the universe and all of us in it. I like that thought. After all, someone somewhere must have been watching for all the things to have happened that allows my family and me to be here. It just can't all be coincidence. Mom is serenely confident that everything was planned. So when we sit down at night to eat we hold hands and give thanks for what we have been given.

Dad props up on one arm and looks around until he's spotted all four of us. It's a habit he's had since it was just me. Mom does the same thing often. It's like they alternate making sure that they know where we are. I think it's telepathy or something. If one of them is satisfied than the other one is too without having to look themselves.

Dad's eyes often rest on me maybe just a little longer than the others and Mom always starts her sweep with me. That's not really bragging or anything like that. None of my siblings were torn away from them like I was more than once. So they tend to make sure I'm nearby. Sometimes it's a bother when I'm playing with my friends but it's a nice bother if that makes any sense.

All these people, the Cylons and the Humans alike, who say I'm something special. They're right, but not for the reasons they think.

My Mom and Dad love me. And that's all that it takes for me to be special.

(The End)


End file.
